


Still

by justalittlegreen



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: No Resolution, S8E6, angry BJ, period of adjustment, punch - freeform, sad Hawkeye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 03:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20614160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: It didn't stop with the punch.





	Still

It didn't stop with the punch. 

Hawkeye barely had time to register the blow before he hauled himself off the cot and tore after BJ. That sonofabitch. He had no idea what he would do when he caught him, but he raced through the camp, hand still over his eye and wincing. 

BJ had disappeared.

Hawk stopped at the door of Supply, near the edge of camp, catching his breath. His head started pounding. 

Something crashed inside Supply.

Hawkeye spun around and yanked the door open. "BJ!" he yelled, the syllables rattling strangely on his tongue. When had he last called him that? Maybe a year ago already. He fumbled his way over a pile of blankets that had been dumped on the floor and rounded the corner. 

BJ stared at him from the end of the row, wide-eyed, half a dozen bedpans upended at his feet.

Hawkeye put up his hands and started to step toward him. "Easy, Beej," he said, voice shaking just a little. "C'mon."

BJ's eyes narrowed as he took in the bruise forming at the corner of Hawkeye's eye, anger giving way to shock and horror.

"It's okay," Hawkeye said gently. "It's okay, c'mon." 

BJ covered his face with his hands and leaned against the wall, sliding down it and banging his head gently against his knees. Hawkeye moved quickly, nudging the detritus out of the way with his feet and took a seat next to him, put a hand on his back.

BJ sobbed. A hoarse, ragged sound halfway to a shout. Hawkeye'd heard it only a few times before. He slowly rubbed his hand over BJ's spine, back and forth. BJ stiffened, pulled away.

Hawkeye looked around. They hadn't been in the supply shed in daylight in months. It looked different without the shadows. Without the threat of someone coming in being an actual threat. With all their clothes on. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, wondering if they'd ever come back here like that, or if BJ'd come too close to losing too much to let himself continue.

It wasn't more than a few minutes before BJ's shoulders stopped shaking. He wiped his eyes and nose on his shirtsleeve and got up and left, not looking at Hawkeye, walking out as if no one else was there.

Damnit. Hawkeye got to his feet and followed. 

BJ headed to the laundry shed, but turned away as soon as he reached the door. As Hawkeye got closer, he could see the tension gathered in BJ's shoulders, as if all he wanted to do was turn around and tell Hawkeye off. But it would be impossible to do both that and pretend Hawkeye wasn't there, so he picked up the pace. 

Hawkeye picked up with him. 

BJ circled the camp, skirted the minefield, and eventually headed up the road to the helipad. Hawkeye, followed, thighs complaining about the climb without the usual adrenaline that fueled him up the hill. Night was falling, and it was starting to get cold. His shadow caught up with BJ's heels.

BJ picked up a rock and hurled it toward the minefield. Then another. Then another. Six more and he tripped a mine, the crack and boom echoing off the mountains. 

Below them, people scrambled for their tents like ants. The PA announcement followed within seconds. "Just a little fourth of july preview, folks, courtesy of the US Army Mine Corps."

BJ picked up another rock and held it, turning it over in his hand. Hawkeye stood, watching him, eye throbbing, heart breaking.

Finally, BJ threw the rock down at his feet, turned on his heel and started walking again. Hawkeye followed.

It went like that for over an hour until BJ finally headed back to the swamp and grabbed his shower kit and towel. Hawkeye watched, weighing the choice. Finally, BJ looked at him again. One glance, and Hawkeye knew he would stay behind.

Hawkeye sat down on his cot, dropped his head in his hands as BJ left the tent. He gave him a minute's head start before heading to post-op for an ice pack. The swelling wasn't doing him any favors. 

BJ was still gone when he came back to the Swamp. Hawkeye went through the motions of getting ready for bed. Charles, to his credit, didn't say a word about the still, his eye, or anything else.

Hawk lay down and waited for the sound of BJ's footsteps and fell asleep long before he heard them. 

The shower wasn't a long one, but BJ headed to post-op afterwards, on the pretext of checking on a few patients. He wandered to the edge of camp, stopped at the mess for a trickle of coffee. No one spoke to him except Father Mulcahy, who offered a, "BJ?" before BJ waved him off and walked away.

By the time he came back to the Swamp, everyone was asleep. A square of moonlight fell across Hawkeye's face, the compress he'd been using fallen next to him. 

BJ sat down in the dentist's chair and picked up the compress, shook it out, refolded it, and pressed it gently back to Hawk's eye.

When Hawkeye woke, it was to the feel of BJ's hand on his face and the sight of BJ's face pressed into his hand, tears leaking through his fingers. Hawkeye didn't move a muscle. Closed his eyes. Waited. Waited. Waited.

They would never speak of it, even long after Hawkeye forgave him. Even after he stopped flinching every time BJ got angry. Even after they started meeting in Supply again. BJ apologized the next day, in his way, for the blow. But what came after, they buried. 

Hawkeye never stopped following him.

BJ never let him catch up.


End file.
